The morning light streamed into the study, though Vania had barely slept. Her body ached from tension, but her mind was sharper than it had been in days. She had a plan now, and the file she compiled was the first weapon in her arsenal.

A knock at the door startled her. She froze, the memory of Devandra’s sudden intrusion still fresh. But this knock was different—soft, cautious.

“It’s me,” Arga’s voice called gently.

Vania exhaled. “Come in.”

Arga stepped inside carrying two cups of coffee. “You didn’t sleep, did you?” he asked, handing one to her.

She shook her head. “Couldn’t. Too much running in my head.”

Arga sat...